


The Fourth Bride

by heroesinahalfshell91



Category: Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Other, Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroesinahalfshell91/pseuds/heroesinahalfshell91
Summary: Ileana takes a wrong turn that could mean the end of her life, Dracula is there when she does.





	

Ileana, her thread bare skirts gathered in hand, high about her knees cautiously picked her way with great care through the muddy and treacherous marsh the fells had become. Ever had her mother warned her of the dangers that came with such a sharp and unruly land, but, what, the girl wondered would she have said of Ileana were she here today? It was likely all well and good that the woman was dead, for had she not been she would have surely died of fright at what had become of her daughter.

As a stone bit sharp into one of the young woman's bare soles she couldn't help but utter a curse upon the land, for her presence in the stagnant Hell. While Ileana had prided herself in making do with the merger nothing that had been left her, and what she'd been able to garner through wit and craft, there was still a perpetual hunger gnawing at her belly, and a constant chill in her bones.

Pausing she allowed sorrow and self pity to cloud and eventually overcome the bitterness and anger. Her father she could have quite easily done without all her life long, the drunkard bastard had been a lout, quick with the rod, and possessed a strong favor for women and gambling. His death she had been all to eager to welcome, save for the two coppers a day, mind. Though those two copper were rarely enough to keep them in bread and fat, never you mind the blessed and scarcely come upon gift of tea. Only a fortnight after the fiend gave up the ghost to cholera than did go first the baby, then her mother.

How Ileana missed her mother, and mourned her sister never knowing a true taste of life. And so it was that she had been turned out by the lord of the land, a pauper, and woman of the age fourteen, as of the morrow that is, she had been given two choices: firstly indentured servitude to the lord, or secondly life on the fells.

The girl snorted, sweeping an auburn lock from before her eyes as she struggled to see in the twilight which crept eagerly about her, her pride was as ever her downfall. Even now as she struggled along the rocky five miles to Heatherbrooke so as to come by the final wares of the eve, it was her pride that kept her moving.

It had rained all day, and the day before that, and even so far and three days aback, had it rained. So bad was it that the craggy stone filled landscape had become, this, a soggy void which sucked at her feet each time she plunged them down. Prideful and vain, Ileana could just hear her mother chastising her, still the lass smiled, no amount of rain was going to keep her from getting the best out of the only penny she had to her name, even if it meant traveling so far in such unseasonable weather.

At last however the land began to solidify beneath her, and all too suddenly she stood upon a well worn cart track. Tracing it back with her eyes she could tell it came from the tilled and farmed plots in the lowlands to the south. Returning her eyes toward her journey's end however the brunette could see it trail off into a thick standing of trees. Suppressing a childish shudder as she banished away images of snarks, and goblins and other nasty things her nursery had been filled with tale of she squared her shoulders and stared straight on.

Though she never felt mightier as she chased down the fear which lingered in her mind and willfully extinguished it the young woman had never been more frail. Silhouetted by the newly risen moon's light Ileana was nothing more than a slip of a girl. The long weeks spent alone had sapped what fiery spirit the thirteen year old had left, and the cold nights spent curled with nothing more than a rag for comfort ate at her flesh as each morn she seemed to awake thinner, more fragile somehow. The girl's hair had lost its luster and now bore twigs and straw, her pale skin vied for its former loveliness and now seemed sickly in its longing for the pink hues now missing. Her eyes contrary to her otherwise overall metamorphosis were silver and strong, like her mother's, and remained wholly unchanged.

The trees, however frightening at first soon gave Ileana a strange type of comfort as she crept in their midst, pausing only to place her tired old shoes upon her feet, having nearly forgotten them in hand. The world seemed to close in around her as she walked on. It was strange and beautiful in its own right and thoughts of calling this land home, as apposed to the opens fells began to seem more and more illustrious.

Cutting sharp through the night air the scream of a fox caused icy fingers of fear to trace her spine as she walked. It was clear to her by now that the journey had been in vain as she would no doubt reach Heatherbrooke in the middle of the night. Never the less there would be some doorway in which she could pass the eve surely, and buy her breads in the freshness of the new day.

The thought of warm bread comforted the girl and filled her with a hopeful longing. She was so preoccupied by the thought so familiar and dear that she failed to hear the tromp of boots as they fell into pace behind her. She had gone on some ways still without taking notice, until a scarcely muffled laugh rumbled behind her. Ileana daren't look, rather she quickened her pace, sensing the looming presence of a man just a step behind her. She'd only begun to contemplating running when a shadow passed before her blocking the path from view.

"Well, well." came a fierce and dunken slurred voice from the figure barring her way causing her to stop dead in her tracks. Ileana closed her eyes tightly in fear, her nose wrinkling in response to his stench. Then the girl's eyes flashed open in panic as a large calloused hand brushed her cheek and flowed down her throat.

"No!" the lass protested, all imagery of bread, and the hope of a warm full belly fleeing from her as she thought now only of taking flight from these men who were stalking the roads so late in the even times.

"She doesn't like ye!" laughed the other as the girl retreating from the first backed into the second.

The men regarded her with cruel, hungry eyes for a long moment as they closed in on her, their hands tracing slow tracks along her form. One hand running down the length of her arm causing her to jerk away, his counterpart caressing the small of Ileana's back and lower, making the child yelp and jump away in surprise.

"Please," Ileana whispered in a frantic rush. Her heart hammered in a thunderous din, each pump of blood coursing her through with a fear made cold and lingering by the adrenaline which wetted her veins. "Please, I- I beg you, let me pass."

"And where would you be off to at such an hour?" the brute before her laughed tracing his hand along the side of her face, leaving more dirt behind than had been there prior. He was tall and bore a thick filthy beard, an ale sodden thing which was a fine fit for the ragged tunic and breeches he wore.

"Particularly when you are so very alone?" the second and younger of the vile pair asked. He was shorter, clean shaven, and less inebriated. He seemed softer to the frightened girl who turned to address him, only to be chilled by the hot, hungry light she found flickering in his eyes.

In desperation Ileana took to her heels, trying vainly to flee from the pair. One of them seized her, flinging just off the cart track, and into the damp, mildewing leaf litter. In an instant they were a top her, like hounds set upon a fox vying for power and control arguing and fighting amongst themselves, heedless of the battered body they came to fight over. First one grabbed hold, splaying her legs with hands that would bruise, then the other, the letures, tearing at clothes, laughing as the haggard young woman screamed and fought them as best she could, feeble before their might.

"Help me!" she wailed as her assailants, mouthed, bit, and molested her. "Please, someone!"

A weight came upon Ileana then, terrible and crushing as they toyed with her. The pain of a stolen maidenhead was at first sharp as the elder thrust himself inside of her, greedy, and lusting he wasted little precious time in prolonging the ordeal. As he bore down upon her, rock and stone cut her back the pain between her legs becoming a raging inferno, the virginal blood doing little to ease the friction, his girth tearing her further as the girl thrashed about in a frenzied manner.

Ileana screamed and prayed, calling out to God above for salvation, as she tried to fend them away. Her fight doubled when the men changed positions, their first coming to hold her down whilst the second had his turn. Lashing out mightily Ileana managed to unbalance one of her rapists, wrenching her arms away from the other. There was a moment of confusion, and disarray as she scrambled on hands and knees through the turf, snarled roots and throny underbrush clawing at the young woman, and impeding her progress.

A hand about one ankle brought her back into place, dragging her ruthlessly over the damp earth. She kicked out like a mule, with the other, catching one of them somewhere soft. They remarked between themselves, and the young man laughed merrily. It was a high, glittering sort of laugh which gave the impression of a song bird. Unreasonably this have Ileana hope.

"My lord," she shrieked when they rolled her over. "I beseech thee, do not do this."

It was all for not, he ignored the plea, and did as he would, reducing the utterly spent child to a fit of broken tears. Disillusioned with life, with humanity, and unable go on her vain endeavor for freedom, floundering at best she found herself languishing in despair with little else to do, but wait for it to all be over. After what seemed like years, trapped in this stagnant abyss of fear, torture, and self-loathing it finally was, and they stood, redressing, watching as she curled in of herself choking on tears. Wallowing in shame the child wished then that the cholera had taken her also, wasting her away until dehydration and fever fueled seizures stole her from the world she never knew could be so cruel, just as it had her family.

Scarcely aware of their murmuring she wept as the men whispered amongst themselves, the conversation became briefly heated when finally the youth turned his attention back to Ileana and with a rough hand rolled her over. She couldn't face him, and turned her visage away, hiding in the cloying leaves, smoothing her sorrows. Had the child the fortitude to look on her oppressor she would have seem how he brandished the knife, skillfully, eagerly.

The keen bladed weapon slid into her abdomen thrice with ease before the girl's mind could comprehend the meaning of this new and sudden torment. Her breathing ragged she watched in horror at the blood slowly seeping from her now porous stomach, a dull ache imbedding itself into her bones, iron lacing her tongue as from a punctured lung she sputtered miserably condemned breaths.

"That's enough!" the breaded man snarled yanking the other away. He watched the life ebbing out of the girl whose hands washed in confused, jerking motions over the wounds as she tried to staunch what bleeding she could. Where he had only moments ago taken his pleasure out of the girl's flesh, there now held a hint of remorse in his eyes. "You didn't have to do it, not a soul would give a damn who'd broke the waif in." he sighed shaking his head solemnly at the loss of life, before motioning his companion to follow, spitting with displeasure upon the ground.

Left alone with only the fine evening mist clinging to the sound of retreating footfalls for company, Ileana felt the cold steal away within her bones. Her fingers numbly tracing over her stomach, and the life seeped out of her, darkness clouding her vision...

Although he could not deny that the scene brought to him a certain amount of arousal, any more than he could deny his own vampiric nature, it did give the Count Vladislaus Dracula pause. The young maiden lying just to the side of the path bloodied and broken by the savages of man, her pale breasts draped in a moonlit glow, blood pooling around her, legs splayed exposing the crushed rose that was her ruined womanhood. He felt the heat of the moment swell within him, excitement and hunger growing beyond his control.

The vampire had been hunting for answers just as much as he had been prey. His brides forlorn, languishing in the guilt and regret that was their horrid, undead brood, creatures only mothers could love, and abominations no deity in either Heaven or Hell saw fit to breathe life into. There was hope, however frail, a promising young scientist but doubt still clung to Dracula with a cruel oppression and caused him to seek the solitude of midnight. So this morsal was a welcomed find.

Approaching the wretch a smile etched itself upon the immortal's face the slow minuet of her fading heartbeat reaching his ears. Moved by the subtle tempo, now dancing towards the girl with an inhuman grace the son of the devil fell upon her, tasting the stolen virginal blood between her legs. She whimpered, a hand finding the crown of his head she pushed away weakly but it made the vampire's lusty hunger grow, he loved it best when they fought, especially when there was nothing left to fight for. His fangs peaking he bit savagely into the tender, bruised flesh earning a little scream from the dying young woman.

Dracula laughed, a low wicked sound as he gave in to animalistic side, forcing her legs open side as he savored the moment, tongue tracing circles in ruined flesh with excitement as she tried pushing away once more. Moving upwards, his mouth was still greedy, tongue tracing and entering the knife wounds, eliciting small cries and tears from his victim, as he playfully explored the newly made wounds. He fingered and enjoyed the bloody holes carved in her, before sending her end nearing Dracula a different pleasure. Finding her throat the man closed his hand around it, playing the cat to her mouse Dracula missed kissed her roughly.

Lost in the ecstasy of his life and death game animal hunger clashing with a man's needs Dracula thrust inside of the ruined girl, relishing the warmth of a living woman around him. Rocking violently within the cradle of her loins pressure built, feral light coming to the undead creature's eyes. Throwing his head back with a snarl Dracula fought the pressure and the exhilieration until it began to turn into a throbbing pain yet still he fought becoming more frenzied in his assault, back arching as he forced his way deeper and deeper inside. When the moment finally arrived the vampire lunged forward fangs sinking into the supple flesh that only thinly veiled the child's arteries the thick, iron tang of blood filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. By the time he had finished the young woman was fading quickly, sobbing with only a half consciousness as the life within her ebbed away.

Dracula stalled for only a moment more, but a moment was long enough for the idea to take hold, as a flicker of his former humanity rose to the surface in a brief spark of remorse. It took only a small amount of his black blood to begin the tranformation. It was a waste truly, the convulsions wracking her form as blood containing the fires of Hell corrupted her body.

Stooping down a retrieved the girl and took flight...

"Will this little whore really become your new bride my lord?" Verona asked despise dripping from her lips like venom, though one look from her master had her recoiling in fear and subjugation.

"If she survives the change." he said evenly. Taking his leave the Count left Ileana in capable, though begrudging care of the three brides that had come before her.


End file.
